-1"No one in their right mind could ever love you, Munch. You've been around that block too many times."
Cold air hits his face as he steps out onto the precinct rooftop. But he doesn't care. Anything is better than being back in the squad room…better than listening to the others. He knows they think they're a musing when they say things like that to him. And most of the time, he can laugh it off. That is, however, when it's coming from the other guys.
This time, however, it's different. It's different because it wasn't one of the guys. It's different because it was her. It's different…because this time, it hurts. And so he stands here in what could be defined as 'city silence' trying to get rid of that hurt. But it won't go away. And he knows why. Even though he doesn't want to, he does. And that only makes it worse.
He leans against the railing that keeps him from physically falling, not at all surprised to feel tears sliding down his face from beneath his glasses. She's right. And as much as he hates to admit it, as much as he wants to believe that she didn't mean it, that it's because the case the squad is working has them all at each other's throats, he knows it. And it hurts because he loves her.
Taking off his glasses, he stows them momentarily in his pocket so that he can wipe at his eyes before sliding them back on. The city continues to move beneath him, and he watches, desperate for something…anything…to make her voice go away. But it insists on lingering. And he's made to face that she thinks no one can love him.
Of course, truth be told, he can't blame her, nor does he. Four marriages and as many divorces? Hell, even he doesn't see himself in a relationship anytime soon. And she…she has nothing to worry about. She has her partner, her companion of seven years. And she's happy. The last thing he wants is to take that away from her.
Footsteps alert him to someone else's presence and he realizes that he's been up here for a lot longer than he thought. Even so, he ignores the sound. At least until he catches the familiar scent of her…the one he can never place, but the one that he always seems to catch when she's around.
"You gonna stay up here forever?" she asks, her voice almost teasing as she pulls the jacket she's wearing closer around her. He recognizes it as her partner's and turns away.
"What do you want?" he asks, almost coldly, in reply. She looks at him strangely before answering.
"I want you to come inside before you freeze," she says. "Something bothering you?"
Annoyed by her flippancy, he stares down at the sidewalks. "Yes," he thinks, "You're bothering me. Can't you just once let me be?"
"Hey," she says, upon not hearing an answer, "I asked you a question. You all right?"
"Why do you care?" he asks, suddenly whirling around to face her. "Why do you even give a damn?"
"Maybe I care because you've been up here for an hour without a coat or gloves, and you're gonna make yourself sick," she retorts.
"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," he tells her bluntly, "I don't need your pity."
"Who said anything about pity?" she asks. He doesn't answer. Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets before turning to glare at her.
"Why did you really come up here, Olivia?" he asks, his voice breaking on her name. "Did you come up here to add something else to what you said earlier, or did you come to rub it all in my face?"
His voice echoes with a surprising clarity, and she stares at him, startled. "Don't tell me you're still hung up on that," she says finally. He glares at her.
"Why?" he asks. "Because I'm not supposed to feel anything? Because I'm supposed to be unlovable?" His voice breaks further and he turns away so she can't see the tears that are welling up in his eyes again.
"Look at me," she says quietly. He shakes his head, unwilling to look her in the eye again for fear of what he'll do if he does. But she reaches out and touches his face, gently turning his head until their eyes meet. "This isn't just about what I said back there, is it?"
Her voice is quiet, almost comforting. And he wants to tell her everything…wants to tell her how he feels about her, but something holds him back.
"I…I can't," he says finally, almost choking on his words. "You wouldn't…you can't…"
"What?" she asks, her hand lingering on his face. "What can't you tell me, John? What can't I do?"
His eyes close then, reveling in the feel of her hand being where it is. But he knows it won't last. So he pulls away and smiles faintly at her, having already forgiven her for her earlier comments. After all, he's always hated to see her upset. And he knows that as long as he's annoyed with her, she will be. So he reaches out and brushes her hair out of her face before turning and heading back in one side, the answer to her question echoing in his mind.
"I can't tell you that I love you, Liv. I can't because you already have someone who loves you…someone who you love. And even if I did…you couldn't believe me if you tried…you'd laugh. And that hurts more than knowing that you'll never love me back."
A/N: Yeah, so...SVU's not mine, people...don't I wish it was, though...anyways...I left this open-ended on purpose, because I'm not sure where I want it to go, so bear with me...
